


Birds Don't Cry

by emeraldfrog3



Series: Hawke Just Had That Effect [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Depression, Drunk Hawke, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hawke Family Feels, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, angsty angst with a side of more angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-04-29 21:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5142575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldfrog3/pseuds/emeraldfrog3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke laughs it off and keeps on going with her daggers and wit. At least, while she is in public. Alone, her veneer starts to crack, but still she holds it together because what else can she do. Helping people and killing people is what she is best at after all. Some short glimpses into times when Hawke breaks down and her relationship with those who care for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roses and Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian Hawke learns of grief for the first time and leaves her childhood behind.  
> Warning: character deaths

_How could he?_

She dove under the surface again to muffle her scream, the cool water washing the burning tears from her face. Black hair fell in a sheet to hide her as she gasped for air, sobbing. Hair and mucus strangled Marian Hawke as she tread water in the small pond. A mabari pup sat at the edge of the water, whining softly as he watched her.

_Carver needs a father, he’s not a man yet. Bethany needs his teaching and his understanding. Mother needs him, she’s falling apart. How can he leave them?! Why didn’t he help himself? He can heal anything! Can’t he? I need him…_

She slapped the water with all her might, shaking with another sob. Nothing in her fifteen years of life had prepared her for this level of anguish. It was like her heart was being shredded with each breath that she struggled to take between sobs. Marian pushed her hair back, taking in deep shaky gulps of air before she was wracked with tears again. She covered her mouth as she screamed silently, bending over with the force of her pain pushing out of her body.

The shock of the bright red against her pale skin stopped her mid sob. Her hand was covered with blood. She stared for a moment at it then touched her face. A slimy mix of snot and blood was flowing down her chin.

_I can’t do this anymore._

She took a ragged breath and dunked herself under the water again. She scrubbed at her face until it didn’t feel slick anymore. A cold lump took the place of the burning in her chest. Her body couldn’t deal with the grief anymore. She just had to stop. To move on.

Marian felt tired and spent as she waded out of the water, but that didn’t feel like it mattered anymore. The mabari wagged his tail as she stepped on dry land. He timidly licked her foot. She looked down with a forced smile as she pulled her hair back to wring out the water. Beside the hound was the pile of her coat, boots and hunting knife. She froze as she focused on the dagger, her hands still in her hair.

_I have to be the strong one. I will protect them._

Her thoughts were clear as she twisted her long hair into a rough braid. Marian took her blade and pulled her hair taught, sawing through the braid until it came off. Her cropped hair fell and stuck to her face. She tossed her braid into the rose bushes that lined part of the pond and picked up her things.

“Come on, Ze’ev. Beth with be worried and will need help getting Mother to eat.” Her voice came out barely above a whisper, but at least, it was steady.

_I will make you proud, Papa._

_I will serve that which is best in me…_

* * *

 

The ground shook and dread filled her. An ogre charged onto the plateau. Hawke couldn’t move fast enough as it roared, but Carver was close. He rushed at it to distract the darkspawn from their mother. A sickening crunch echoed across the burning landscape as her little brother was thrown to the ground.

Her mabari howled and charged, mimicking her own battle cry as Hawke threw herself at the giant beast. Other darkspawn swarmed after the ogre. Bethany was hurling fireballs, and Aveline’s strong shield arm was defending attacks as Hawke and her hound harried them from all sides. For a few adrenaline pumping minutes, they were surrounded by darkspawn, but they cut them all down.

She stood, gasping for breath as the last monster fell, just waiting for the next thing she had to kill.

Her mother’s wail brought her out of her battle frenzy. She turned to see her kneeling with Carver, pulling him into her lap. It felt like the bottom was dropping out of her world once again. She had hoped that Carver would make it when she saw the ogre toss him, but now she knew even before Aveline confirmed it.

“Maybe we should grieve when we’re safe?” Hawke tried to speak softly to her mother, but the familiar cold of loss spreading through her gut and made her words fall flat. The feeling mingled sourly with the ever present danger that surrounded them.

“Don’t speak to me of grief!” Her mother spat at her. “This is your fault!” The words struck Hawke like a rock. She knew they were true. She couldn’t deny it. Just like with Papa, she was powerless to do anything.

The others continued to talk. Bethany said something undoubtedly kind and gentle. For Hawke, time stopped as she reached out and touched Carver, still hoping for him to open his eyes and say something infuriating. Her eyes burned, but no tears came. It struck her as strange. Both Mother and Bethany were crying, but she could not.

The templar stepped forward, offering his words to bless Carver’s soul. “Ashes we were, and ashes we become.” His voice droned on as Hawke stood. She would not look at either of her family member’s faces. She would protect them as she should have protected him.

“I will never forget you, Carver.” Her mother whispered, Bethany helping her to her feet.

“At least, Pa will have company now,” Hawke spoke more to herself than anyone in particular. “We should go.” She steeled her resolve as she wiped phantom tears from her face, leaving a smear of Carver’s blood along her skin.

 _I will not fail again._ No darkspawn would stop her now, nothing would.


	2. We Fall Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The expedition into the Deep Roads is funded. Hawke takes Varric, Fenris and Bethany with her, but it doesn't go as smoothly as planned.  
> Warning: Even more character death.

Setting up camp at the ancient thaig, Fenris started to notice the changes in Bethany. Her usually cheery attitude began to sour. She hardly spoke, and when she did it was to question the Maker for creating the darkspawn. The day that Bartrand betrayed them, she barely ate, only nibbling at the rations they had brought with them. Day three, when Varric had found some deep mushrooms to sate their hunger, she had only pretended to eat before dividing her portion between the others. It was her choice, so he did not speak up. Four days in, Fenris saw her tugging at her sleeves to cover the bruise-like blotches forming on her skin. He set his hand lightly on her shoulder and gave her a silent questioning look. Bethany just shook her head, her eyes pleading with him not to say anything. On the fifth day of trying to find their way back, she lagged behind Hawke and Varric.

"Could we... slow down? I'm not feeling very well." Bethany's voice wavered, no longer able to keep up.

"I think all our stomachs are a bit tender right now." Hawke quipped as she surveyed the familiar hallway, trying to keep the mood light.

"I'll wager it was those deep mushrooms we found," Varric added with a chuckle, turning to grin at Bethany.

"No, I..." Bethany gasped as she fell to her knees.

Fenris watched as time slowed, Bethany collapsed to the floor and Hawke scrambled to her side.

"Bethany!" Hawke knelt by her sister, cradling her gently as she assisted her to sit up. She appeared calmer than her voice led him to believe. Her ironic smile barely there, but waiting for her sister to look up so she could offer some encouragement.

Fenris suddenly felt like an intruder in a moment of profound grief, but he still couldn’t look away.

"It's the blight, isn't it? I'll end up just like Wesley, won't I?" The younger sister asked in hushed tones, already knowing the answer.

"That's just like you, keeping this to yourself." Hawke forced a choked laugh and stroked Bethany's cheek.

“What could you have done? Swooped to my rescue?” She managed to smile and pressed her cheek harder. “I’m not going to last to the surface. It’s coming on faster.”

Fenris could finally look away, the reserved smile on Bethany’s face too much for him. Just breathing was a labour for her, but somehow she continued to smile.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s no way… oh, Sunshine…” Varric’s voice was choked by his own emotions. The dwarf looked around them as if some cure would miraculously come out of the stone.

“There must be some other way!” Hawke’s voice cracked, no sign of humour. She touched her forehead to Bethany’s, her face nearly as pale.

“You’ll take care of it, won’t you, Sis?”

“I promised I would. You always were a heartbreaker, Beth.” Hawke drew her dagger, her hand shaking.

“And you always made me laugh.” She wrapped her hand around her sister’s, steadying it. “It’s just you now. Take care of Mother.”

Fenris watched as Hawke sat slumped over Bethany’s body. After she had dropped the bloody knife she could have been a statue, as still as the rock around them. He glanced at the dwarf, wondering if they should say something, but Varric shook his head just a fraction. They were both startled as Hawke started to speak.

“Ashes we were, and ashes we become. Maker, give my sister a place at your side. Let me take comfort in the peace she has found in eternity.” Her monotone whisper echoed in the empty room. The words gave her no more comfort than they had for Carver, but as she stood, she knew she would go on.  



	3. The Task of Mourning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke shows up at Fenris' door with food and a bottle-this is starting to become a habit now that they were practically neighbours-but she does feel like the meaningless chatter that they normally engage in.

Hawke took a deep breath and opened the door to Fenris' mansion. Isabella had asked her to come drink at The Hanged Man, but she just wanted to drink in quiet tonight. Still when she had opened the bottle of mead in her room, she found that she didn't want to be alone. So she snuck into the kitchen and filled a basket with peace offerings to smooth her way with Fenris, who would be none too pleased for her to interrupt his brooding.

"Fenris?" She called as she climbed the stairs in the dark mansion.

"Yes, my friend?" He stood in the doorway to the room he used most often, his relaxed posture and the smirk that played on his lips. She suspected that he had already been drinking some of the fine wine found in the cellar here.

 _He is in a good mood, I guess that makes things easier._ Her heart sunk a bit in her chest but she smiled anyway.  "I brought some supper," She replied weakly, pushing past him and laying the contents of her basket on the table. She sighed when he raised his eyebrow at her. "Fine. I want to get drunk. The Hanged Man is too rambunctious for me and I can't be around my mother while I do so," She paused as she re-positioned the food idly. "Not tonight."

Fenris turned her around by the shoulder and put a wine bottle in her hand. "Then we drink."

She froze for a half-breath, the tenderness in his voice startling her, but he was already ripping open a bun to spread soft cheese on it. _Does he remember what today is?_ She wondered. _This morning Varric gently inquired how I am coping, so he remembered, but no one else has mentioned a thing._ Hawke took a deep swig and sputtered. She gasped for breath against the unexpected burn. "Not wine!!" She glared at him accusingly and he treated her to one of his smirks.

"Varric thought you'd want something stronger. I agreed. He wanted to stay but after how you bit his head off this morning," He let his thought die in the air, still with that exasperating smirk on his lips as he caught up one of Leandra’s fruit tarts and finished it in a single bite.

Hawke huffed and took another mouthful, careful not to gulp too fast this time. Still the firewater brought tears to her eyes and she coughed. “What is this?” She gasped, holding the bottle out to him as she grabbed a bun for herself.

“The dwarf called it Boot Screech: about the strongest spirit you can get without a high chance of going blind.” Fenris gave the bottle disgusted sniff, “Well, maybe a medium chance of going blind…” He shrugged, stacking a few more of the tarts on his bread in one hand and picking up the two bottles in the other before sauntering back to the cushions that had been collected in front of the hearth. He set his supper down on the footstool-turned-table and motioned for Hawke to join him.

She followed his lead, taking a pile of her favorites from the basket to the footstool and making herself comfortable in front of the fire. “Days like this, I’m not sure blindness is the worst thing I face!” She laughed, reaching for the bottle of mead this time and taking a long drink.

Fenris watched her quietly and shrugged. He gave her another smirk and started eating his food slowly as they shared the bottle. The silence that settled between them was a comfortable one. They passed the bottle of mead, then screech when the mead was gone. Fenris offered her more food and drink, never trying to prod conversation from her, just accepting the quiet.

“She was five when she first found her magic.” Hawke saw Fenris startle at her voice. _I’m surprised I’m now slurring from that rotgut of Varric’s on top of the mead._ She continued, deliberate to keep her voice steady. “Beth was angry at Carver. With good reason. I tried to break up the fight. Got a burn across my back.” Fenris turned to look at her but she continued to stare into the dying fire. “She was so upset. Scared she would be an abomination. Terrified that we didn’t have a templar to keep us safe. Safe from her. I promised I would be her templar. When Pa’s training scared her. When she had nightmares. I was her templar. I- I promised I’d be the one. I trained. I could sneak to her. Finish the demon fast. She trained. I trained. She grew out of the fear. I would keep everyone safe from her. Her safe from everyone. Always. I failed.” She threw the empty bottle in her hand and it smashed on the back of the fireplace. “She was the best of us. I let the blight have her. A year without sunshine.” Hawke pushed herself to her feet but found the room immediately started spinning and dropped back into her seat.

“You’re drunk, Hawke.” Fenris had moved to stop her from falling face first into the fire like he hadn’t been drinking with her. When she settled safely, he stood to put a few more logs on the fire.

She barked a cold laugh. “That’s the point. Stop feeling. Feel something. But I don’t feel. I’m just cold. But the alcohol burns.” It was her turn to jump when Fenris draped a worn blanket around her shoulders. Her eyes burned too, with tears that would not come, but the blanket was warm and heavy.

“She was a good woman. She did not blame you.” Fenris’ voice was low and as reassuring as he could make it.

Hawke closed her eyes as she sat up carefully, mentally holding back the dizziness. She had hoped for something more from drinking, but it was the talking that was starting to warm the ice that knotted in her chest. The warmth in her limbs from the alcohol meant that she would likely be able to sleep. She felt Fenris get up again but ignored him, focusing on his words. _Bethany didn’t blame me, not for herself or for Carver. She never had, but I still should have done something more. I failed her. But she didn’t blame me._ She could feel her thoughts starting to slide into the circles again. “Thank you, Fen… For listening…” She opened her eyes, confused for a moment as she saw Fenris coming back into the room with Ze’ev and another blanket. The mabari, huffing softly, laid down on the cushions between her and the fire.

Fenris shrugged, meeting her questioning gaze with a look. _Is he smiling? Fenris only smirks._

“I let Bodahn know you passed out and Ze’ev wanted to come. So, sleep, Hawke.” His voice was firm enough that it cut through the muddle of thoughts in her head and made perfect sense.

So, Hawke laid down snuggling against Ze’ev and squirming to get her blanket to cover her new position. She was surprised when she felt Fenris adjust the blankets over her, carefully not touching her as he tucked her in. Right now, she didn’t care, she was surprisingly warm and comfortable. Finally, she was feeling her thoughts drift away, replaced by the feel of Ze’ev breathing against her.

“Anytime, Hawke,” Fenris spoke so softly that she thought that she might have dreamt it as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you hadn't guessed this takes place a year after the expedition into the Deep Roads. I feel bad for not saving Bethany, but Hawke feels worse. Poor Hawke. I feel that she is going to end up crashing after a night of drinking a couple of times, and it's definitely not the last time she'll end up at Fenris'.


	4. With a Broken Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric takes care of a very drunk Hawke. She's drowning her sorrows in ale, but he won't let her get hurt. Sometimes looking after your friends finds you in the most awkward positions.

“Hawke, you’re drunk.”

She grinned at Varric as she swayed, but even now the smile did not touch her eyes. She was weighed down with things that no night drinking could erase. With everything she had seen recently, there was an exceptionally grand story behind tonight’s debauchery.

“O’course I am! Whad people come to the Hanged Man fer? Only way piss ‘n vomit is good, drunk that is. But! Now I go home.” Hawke laughed as she stumbled towards the door.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Varric caught her hand as her stagger turned into a lean. He was the only thing keeping her from toppling over. Her balance was lost somewhere in that last pint.

“Come on, Giggles, you will stay in my suite. I don’t have enough gold to keep you _and_ Daisy from being mugged tonight.” If Broody was here, Varric would have let them walk back to Hightown together. Even drunk, the pair could handle almost anything the streets of Kirkwall could throw their way. Still, he could suffer in his chair by the fire for a night if it kept Hawke safely out of danger.

He chuckled to himself; _far better his bed than Rivaini’s_. It was by luck alone that she had already stumbled to spend the night hours with another. He didn’t want to be in the middle of that shit show.

Hawke laid her hand heavily on the dwarf’s shoulder, leaning closer to look him thoughtfully in the eyes. “If,” she whispered loudly. “If I get ‘nother drink, I make not problems.” She giggled again before standing and taking a deep breathe. Looking dignified was damn hard to do when you were that intoxicated, and as hard as Hawke was trying, she still failed miserably. “Maker’s balls, I am drunk! Maybe just water is best?”

The dwarf chuckled softly and put his arm around her waist. Hawke was so incapacitated that he had to lead her along and was basically carrying her towards the stairs. “Water it is, Hawke, and then sleep.” Her legs were useless on the stairs and he barely kept her upright. Varric feared that sitting her down would cause them to lose what little momentum they had. She was taller than him and he hated to admit it, but he wouldn’t be able to carry her if she passed out. Finally, by the grace of Andraste, he dumped her on his bed with a plop.

She fumbled with her boots as she tried to get them off. He poured her a cup of water while she struggled, and he tried to hide the amusement on his face. Finally, boots went flying and she was free to accept the cup before gulping it down. Satisfied, she flopped back onto the softness of his bed.

“You take care of me Varric.” It was a statement, not a question. She trusted him and he had no intentions of ever letting her down.

“Of course, Hawke,” Varric reassured her as he pulled a spare blanket out of his wardrobe for himself. Already, she was passed out on his bed, curled up into the smallest ball she could force herself into. He stopped for a moment just to gaze at her. This woman was so full of righteous justice that the degenerates of Kirkwall were terrified of meeting her in a back alley. Yet now, while she walked in the fade, she was so small and vulnerable in his eyes.

An incredible power clung to Hawke like a second skin. Everyone who met her immediately felt its pull and was drawn in. She was unique though few tried to understand her beyond what she could accomplish for them.

At first, Varric had treated her the same way. Now, she was one of his closest friends and he sensed the way the world confirmed around her. He, Varric Tethras, wasn’t going to let a chance like this pass him by. There was a great tale unfolding here and he would be the one to record it. Besides, someone had to keep Hawke out of trouble when she ran her mouth. She was quick to draw her daggers and ask questions later.

The blanket was wrapped snuggly around him as he settled into his chair. This was worth a night or two of discomfort. His eyes drifted closed, her sleeping form the last thing he saw.

* * *

“I fucked up, bad.”

Varric snapped awake as he heard the unusual tension in her voice. The fire had died down, so he pulled his blanket up around his shoulders before walking over to sit on the edge of his bed. Hawke had her back turned to him but was locked around a pillow as if it were the only thing holding her together. He hesitated before placing his hand lightly on her small shoulder. For the first time in many years, he faltered for words, but she saved him and started talking on her own.

“I pushed him too fast, Varric. I knew he was too emotional. But, _oh_ , how he kissed me!” Hawke buried her face in the covers to muffle a groan. 

Varric shifted uncomfortably as realizations began to unfold in his mind. Broody had run off after the crazy maleficar Hadriana had been tracked down and slain. Hawke must have followed after him once they got back to Kirkwall. From what she was saying, the sexual tension between them had finally snapped. This had to be the most awkward moment the dwarf had ever found himself in. His inebriated female friend was in his bed pining for another man. Things couldn’t get much worse. The huskiness in her voice left him now questioning what happened, but he almost regretted the answer when she spoke again.

“But it was just _so_ good. I shouldn’t have forced it further. I’ve lost him. How do I always end up like this? He hates me now.” Her head tilted back and she pulled at her bangs out of frustration. She seemed devastated by what had happened with the elf.

Varric now understood why she had shown up early to the Hanged Man today and was at least two drinks ahead of Rivaini all night. It also explained why Broody had skipped out on their game of Wicked Grace. Now Varric regretted Isabella being gone. She might not be better at serious relationship talk, but it at least wouldn’t be him stuck here. Or maybe Aveline could help… No, that would be more disastrous than any damage he could do. A war raged inside him. He was torn between wanting to protect Hawke like a little sister, and knowing that Broody would throw himself on a sword for her. He had, in fact, more than once.

“Now Hawke, unless you started using blood magic to trade slaves, I am fairly certain that he does not hate you.” She groaned and rolled over to look up at him. “And I don’t think you could have forced him to do anything he didn’t want to.”

“He wanted to! But that was the problem. I should have stopped, I know how emotions can carry you away.” She pushed herself up onto her elbows to look him in the eyes.

“Hush,” He kept his chuckle inside at her self-blame, and the simple absurdity of him giving relationship advice. “It will be alright Hawke. Fenris has always been scared of how you make him feel, even before the deep roads. He just needs time.”

Hawke flopped back onto the bed with an exaggerated sigh. “He’s not going to just brood, Varric! He’s going to leave! I can’t be with him, fine, but he’s my best friend after you and Isabella. Now I have ruined all of that.”

He felt like he needed another drink. Talking to Hawke while she was drunk was less productive than talking with her mabari.

“Then show him nothing has changed. Take him out on a typical job, or show up like you randomly do.”

“That… That makes sense. I will treat him like normal. He just wanted to be happy too.” She wrapped her arms around her face and rocked slowly. “Yes, that makes sense,” she yawned.

“Yes, Hawke. Now sleep, okay?” Varric grinned as he watched her start to drift off again. He tenderly tucked the blankets around her. He then settled back down in his chair and closed his eyes. This would make an interesting thread of romance in her story, but he would write her giving a tearful confession of unrequited love. No one would believe what really happened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to SilentSlayer for beta reading this chapter. It is so much more fun having someone else's input when you edit.
> 
> Varric is one of the all time favorite characters and I had been struggling to catch his essence but I think it worked out. Being about six or seven years older than Hawke, I always saw him as an older brother and partner in trouble. Who else would Hawke spill her heart to?


	5. All Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris goes to comfort Hawke, only to realize how inadequate he is.

"I don't know what to say, but I am here."

Hawke sat on her bed staring at the floor. For a moment, she didn't even acknowledge him. Finally, she glanced in his direction, "Just say something. Anything."

Fenris stepped closer, hesitating for a moment. Her voice flat and lifeless, so different than the women he knew. "Th-they say that death is only a journey. Does that help? " he sat lightly beside her. Perhaps he would be able to give her some comfort in this.

"It just raised more questions. A journey to where?"

Something in her voice ripped at his gut. She was alone, just as he was but she had known and loved her family, something he could not understand.

"I don't know. It is just something that people say," He mumbled. His heart twisted inside his chest as he realized there was nothing he could do for her, not after how he had left her the last time they had been alone. She should still hate him for that, for all that they acted amicable around each other. He must be making her mourning harder, he shouldn't have come.

Fenris almost launched off the bed as her hand settled tentatively on his. Instead he froze, unsure what she expected next, but nothing more happen. She wanted him there, her grip on his hand growing stronger proved that, but she seemed to want nothing more, simply staring into the fire silently. After a few tense moments he started to relax, watching the flames dance. He chided himself for how easy he lost track of time here, but he revelled in the daydream that he was not broken and they could have been together and this would be normal.

Hawke slumped, her head rolling onto his shoulder. He looked down at her, holding still for another moment until he realized she was asleep. With the grace of a cat he twisted so that he could still support her head while laying her gently down on the bed. He tucked the covers around her, careful not to rouse her. Before standing he paused and brushed the hair from her face. Once again his gut clenched, she looked no more at peace now than she had awake, but there was nothing else he could do for her.

He turned to make his escape and nearly fell over Ze'ev. He sighed as he knelt beside the mabari, looking him straight in the face and remembering in a flash the story Merrill has told. "Protect her in the fade, from the nightmare and the Dread Wolf alike." The dog replied to his whisper with a soft growl, and climbed onto the bed, lying protectively against his mistress.

Satisfied, Fenris closed the bedroom door softly behind him and stepped toward the kitchen. That door was the fastest and most discreet way back to his mansion. Back to a bottle of wine and the silence to make sense of the turmoil that rose in him from being in her room again and being helpless against her grief.

For a second time that night he almost fell when Orana stepped into his path. Swearing silently to himself for not being aware, Fenris looked now at the once-slave-now-servant.

"Did she cry?" The elf demanded of him. She sounded so unlike the timid slave that she often portrayed that he stared at her dumbfounded, barely hearing the question. She wiped her own red-rimmed eyes and urged once more, "Did Mistress Hawke weep for her mother?"

Fenris shook his head, still gaping at the girl. Even with their joint reading lessons, this was more than she had ever spoke to him at once.

Tears welled up in Orana's eyes again, "Lady Leandra was so worried that she would not cry, not since her father, not at all. She needs to cry Master Fenris!" Fenris cringed at her continual habit to call him master. "Now more than ever. I thought she might cry with you. I thought you could help her!" The girl slapped her hand over her mouth realizing how accusing she sounded.

"I thought I could help too. I was wrong." He spoke softly, shifting from foot to foot as he felt shame from the truth in her words.

"That is not what... I - I am worried too... Without my Lady, I am - I am afraid Mistress Hawke will give up... I saw slaves give up. Their eyes looked dead, with no tears... Then their bodies followed." Her voice dropped off to a whisper.

Fenris looked at his hand as he made a fist. Could Hawke want to die? He had seen those dead eyes of slaves too and when Hawke had looked at him... _Not her. Not his strong, vibrant, witty... Not **his**..._ He sighed and looked towards her bedroom. "Ze'ev is with her now, Orana. I will make sure- I mean, I will talk with the others, we will make sure she is not alone. She is strong."

Orana seemed to calm at his reassurance, which was a relief for him too. He wouldn't know what to do if the girl started weeping. "I will continue to worry for her. My Lady would want me to take care of Mistress Hawke. I will watch her, you will bring friends to interest her, to keep her. Maybe she can heal and cry again."

Fenris nodded slowly. "We will take care of her. Hawke will be fine." She had to be fine. He hesitated then lightly touched Orana's shoulder as she nodded in agreement. He moved past her, out into the dark streets of Hightown. The cool night air felt good on his face as he smile fiercely, the dreadful joy of imagining raising each person ever hurt Hawke's family and slaughtering them again. Even if he could not comfort her now, he could stay with her and protect her from whatever would come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first bit of fanfiction that I ever wrote. I hope you liked it. There were two major things that were always my own headcannon as I played DA2, Hawke had to have ptsd and Orana needed more of a role. So this came out of those thoughts and then a whole story evolved from this.


	6. With Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone with her pain, Hawke lays in bed, unable to do anything but think as she recovers from her fight with the Arishok.

Pain.

There was nothing but pain.

Then slowly, the pain began to focus. Every inch of her ached, but her stomach burned most of all. The memory of the pain seared itself permanently in her mind: the Arishok charging and just not moving fast enough to avoid his sword. The moment of disbelief as she was impaled and lifted off the ground, her body not registering that it was all real. The shock alone kept her going long enough to roll away from a second attack and gulp down a healing potion.

Isabela’s need for help drove her into that situation more than protecting the city. She was “basalit-an”. It had to be her. It  _ always  _ had to be her. And in the end, she alone was victorious.

The blasted nobles had even expected her to stand around and make a speech for them as she bled on the carpet after the battle. They  _ needed _ their new champion. Selfish. Spineless.

She wasn’t sure how Fenris and Isabela got her out of there to Anders, but they managed.

She hadn’t expected to survive. Laying in bed with no battle lust to sustain her, unable to move, she hurt more than she did during the fight. Her eyes burned, but no tears came to cool them. It would have been easier if she hadn’t survived her fight with the Arishok. By all accounts, she shouldn’t have. But she was still here. The pain was proof of that.

It was always about what she could do for others. They always wanted to use her, even if she failed. Meredith wanted her to fail. She would have been happy to see Hawke dead. They could all find someone else to solve their problems.

Mother. Bethany. Carver. Pa. Any of them would have been better here than her.

Death would have made life simpler. Then she could join her family in peace.

But something held her back. Something kept her in this world.

_ Fenris. _

She had hoped it could just be over. That she could just turn off the hurt of him leaving, of her pushing him away.

He just wanted to be happy.

She just wanted to be happy.

She had almost felt normal again without his confident smirk causing her heart to constantly stutter. Like she had some control of her emotions and could simply laugh at the antics of her misfit friends.

Fenris. Bela. Varric. Ze’ev. Aveline. Donnic. Sebastian. Merrill. Anders. Orana. Bodahn. Sandal Even Gamlen. Her misfits.

Her family was gone, but the thought of her misfits was warm in the pit of her stomach.

But then  _ he  _ came back to comfort her after what she had seen in the void between life and death…

_ Her mother’s face bloodless. Her eyes were not her own but were still filled with fear. The stitches on her neck that stood black against the pale skin and the brown-red dried blood. The nose-burning taste of blood magic thick in the air. “You’ve always made me so proud.” The words rip apart the last shred of her family. _

Fenris just held her that night.

He cared.

Still.

What would happen to him when Danarius came for him if she was gone?

What would happen to her if he was gone?

What would happen to her without him?

For a moment, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. It was too much.

She let the pain numb her thoughts, praying that the oblivion of sleep would come fast and provide at least temporary relief.


	7. Night terror, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is expecting a fight, but not like the one he gets.

Fenris opened his eyes, not sure what woke him at first, but set down his wine bottle and reached for his sword, instinctively. His wine-fogged brain tried to make sense of the frantic scuffling he heard, but he already felt adrenaline clearing it.

"Wouaf!" A marabi pushed the room’s door open with a thud.

"Ze'ev?" The dog's tail swished once at his name, then curl back around his leg. Fenris wasn't surprised that he could let himself in, more than once he had found an empty pantry with dog slobber all over, but the low pitiful whine he gave: this was not a congenial visit. When Fenris took too long getting to his feet, Ze'ev nipped at his arm, catching his sleeve and tugging before letting go. Fenris felt his chest rumble with a low growl, echoing the dog's agitation. Only Hawke being in trouble would make her mabari act like this, but what could drive Ze'ev from her side? He caught his sword as he chased after him, out into the dark alley of Hightown, taking the shortest way to the Hawke manor.

Fenris slowed as he came to the open kitchen door. Drawing his sword, he moved cautiously through the kitchen as Ze'ev charged on. He took a deep breath, forcing his heart to slow and focus on his hearing. Ze'ev scratching on the tile, Bodahn's baritone murmuring comforts, Orana's soprano reaching a panicked range, then Hawke's distinct battle cry and the crash of smashing pottery.

Bodahn stood in front of the study door, dressed in his house coat with his arms raised to protect his face, a shattered vase on the floor around him. Orana stood on the opposite side of the room next to the fireplace, blood, and tears flowing freely down her face. "I just tried to wake her!?" She choked on a sob, at the edge of hysterics. Fenris moved into the room, trying to understand the scene before him, but seeing Hawke pushed everything else to the back of his mind.

Hawke was always fierce in battle, just the sight of her ready to fight terrified most, but now she had the look of some wild beast. There she stood in the study, her clothes rumpled from being slept in, her eyes wide with fear and adrenaline, her mouth drawn into an ugly snarl, but there was no recondition in her face as she looked at Bodahn.

Fenris saw her shift in weight and ran towards her, dropping his sword to free his arms. Bodahn looked up as the sword rattled on the tile, not realizing the danger he was in until Fenris pushed past him and met Hawke's charge, pushing her away from the dwarf.

"Stay back," He growled, keeping his eyes fixed on Hawke.

Hawke stumbled into the armchair, her attention diverted to Fenris who now stood between her and the servants. "I will not let you!" Her voice was raw with desperation as her hand found one of her daggers on the side table.

"Hawke!" Fenris moved to block her wild lunge but realizing that he had no blade, switched to try to evade the blade feeling it bite into his arm anyway. He jumped back and pushed the door closed, it would be simpler to disarm her without interference, but how to do it without hurting her. She dove at him again, none of her normal controlled grace; she was all fury. He tried to retreat again, trying to predict her path but he had only seen her fight like this once before: when she fought the necromancer who killed her mother. His only saving grace was that her reactions were slower now and he was able to catch her wrist as she swung at him with the knife. Fenris dug his fingers in to make her release the knife, kicking it away when it dropped to the ground.

"No! NO!!" Hawke screeched, clawing at him to get away.

Fenris grabbed her other wrist with a growl, twisting her around so he could pin her arms to her sides. She thrashed as he lifted her off the ground, then she brought her head back hard. There was a sharp crack and Fenris' vision blurred, pain radiated from his face. He coughed as blood poured from his nose, down his throat and his face. Blinking hard to clear his vision, he tightened his arms in a bear hug around her. "Marian, stop. You are safe!"

Hawke stiffened in his arms for half a breath before she folded forward with a wail. Fenris stumbled with her sudden shift of weight but held on to her as she started to shake. He held his breath, not sure what to expect as she went silent. Then he realized she was sobbing. He sank to the floor, pulling her down into his lap with a grimace when his face brushed the back of her head. She continued to shake as sobs wracked her body and she choked moan into her knees. He cautiously relaxed his grip on her and wiped his sleeve across his face to avoid getting all of his blood on in her hair. He placed his hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, repeating softly, “You are safe, Marian, nothing can hurt you here.”

“I- I- don’t...It sh-should ‘ave been me..” She gasped into her hands. “Papa I f-failed. F-ailed you. Th-them.. p-pro-tect…” Her words dropped off into a wail again, although quieter than before.

Fenris looked at her astonished. Perhaps he should have guessed that this was the nightmare she was reliving, the loss of her family, but he hadn’t thought about it, not with how fervently she had been working to clean up the city, not with how she was laughing again. He hushed her, once more wishing he knew what to do for her.

Hawke’s breathing started to steady, as did her shakes and although he wasn’t sure her tears slowed any. Fenris decided that she would benefit most from being in her own bed. He cradled her close as he slowly stood, careful not to startle her or bump his face. He stood in the middle of the study with her sobbing softly in his arms, marvelling for a moment how small and vulnerable she seemed. She had taken on bandits, apostates, even the Arishok, and never showed her pain. She had watched her family die one by one and never shed a tear. Perhaps Orana was correct, there is only so much a soul can hold before needing a release through tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at a fight scene and I'm decently pleased with it. I ended up shortening it a lot just because it was getting too complicated. I do feel a little bad for breaking Fenris' nose, but I'm sure it has happened to him before, right? Part 2 should be out in the next few days, just doing some finish polishing. Hope you enjoy it!


	8. Night terror, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris holds the sobbing Hawke in the middle of the ruined study. How could this get more complicated?

Fenris stood in the middle of the study with Hawke cradled in his arms, astonished at her vulnerability as she sobbed silently. There was a thud outside and the door crashed open, the marbari bounding in followed closely by the abomination. Fenris snarled as he moved instinctively away from the door, jarring his face. Ze’ev circled around Fenris with a soft huff, calming instantly when he saw Hawke safe. Anders had his staff out, ready for a fight just as he had been minutes before. “Hawke!” He stopped, bewildered.

“Shut up, mage.” Fenris hiss, feeling Hawke press herself into his chest and her ever so soft whimper. His expression softened a little, although he was still annoyed with the clamoring mage for barging in at that moment. “I will take her to her room. Check on Bodahn and Orana first, then Hawke. After, I will _quietly_ try to explain.” He pushed past Anders and carefully climbed the stairs, taking a moment at the top to listen to the mage move into the kitchen to talk with the staff in hushed tones. Tenderly, he set her down on her bed, kneeling beside her.

Ze’ev gingerly jumped onto the bed, laying down against Hawke’s back. Fenris gently wiped tears from her cheek with his thumb. “Hawke?”

Hawke looked through him with puffy eyes, tears stopped but barely registering her name. Slowly, she laid her head down, closing her eyes with a deep sigh. Immediately, sleep set deep on her features, like she had not been fighting for her life just moments before.

Fenris grimaced again as he stood, now that the adrenaline started to wane his injuries started to throb. Standing beside her bed, he took stock of the bruise and cuts he had. He had been lucky, he made amateur mistakes and she could do so much more damage. However trying not to hurt her had been hard; killing was easier. His ears twitched and he walked into the hall to meet Anders. He left the door open to be able to see Hawke.

“Andraste’s flaming knickers, what happened?!” Anders demanded in hushed tones, glancing between sleeping Hawke and Fenris’ bloody face. “Ze’ev shows up panicked at the clinic and leads me here through the cellar. Bodahn gave Orana some spirits to calm her nerves or she would still be in hysterics. I healed them both so there will be no scars but the only story they could give me was that Hawke went mad. And you! You’re a mess, elf.”

Fenris stepped away from the door, very aware of how Anders was growing louder. “Don’t wake her.” He looked back at Hawke, who had shifted to wrap herself around the marbari. “She did, but I do not think that she was awake. I think,” He hesitated, Hawke was very private about her family, but as a healer the mage actually may need to know. “I think she was sleepwalking while dreaming of her family's deaths. Ze’ev fetched me like he did you. She attacked me with no regard for her own safety. Now she is asleep again, but I am not sure if she ever really woke.”

Anders rubbed his forehead, actually quiet for more than a breath.“Sometimes I think that dog is more intelligent than any of us. Let me check Hawke. You stay here and I will heal what I can. There is no point compounding her guilt with your lovely bruises.” He stalked into Hawke’s room, without looking at Fenris again.

Fenris leaned against the hall wall and sank to the ground. The cold stone felt good on the back of his head and he closed his eyes, willing the cold to ease the ache. If the mage had not made the point of Hawke’s guilt, he might have just left and used potions. It was true that Anders did better on bruises and how his face pounded, the relief would be welcome. Although he would never say that to him. He chuckled at the thought of complementing Anders then groaned when pain exploded in his face again.

“Well you’re nose is definitely broken. I can set it and stop the bruising but you’ll want to be gentle with it for a while.” The mage was bent over him so that their faces were inches apart.

“Fasta vass!” Fenris felt his lyrium flair and quickly forced his fight response down. “Do you have to be so close, mage?”

“Yes. I will also have to touch your nose to set it.”

Anders had that cocky smirk on his face that made Fenris want to punch him, but he just gave an approving grunt instead, closing his eyes again. At least, the mage’s hands were not ice cold as they cupped his face, thumbs barely brushing his nose. A crack, a moment of blinding pain then the cool blue glow of healing magic washed the pain in his head away. Fenris let out a sigh of relief, and Anders set his hand lightly on his arm, healing the cuts there as well.

“Is Hawke going to be alright?”

Anders stood and shrugged, glancing at the bedroom. “Usually, stress causes sleep walking, and I know being named Champion has not been easy on her. With her life, it’s not surprising that her nightmares come out. I put her in a dreamless sleep for tonight, so she will be alright for now. Come on,” He held out his hand to Fenris, who gave him a questioning look in return. “We will explain to Orana and Bodahn how Hawke is. Then you will go home and wash off that blood. Tomorrow, we will both work to lessen her stress, not that she’ll thank us. I think that might be the only thing we will ever agree on.”

Fenris took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. “That is true.” There always had been an uneasy truce between them when it came to Hawke’s well-being. He hesitated but Anders started down the stairs, then followed. Hawke was in a deep sleep and there was nothing more he could do for her. He leaned against the kitchen door as the mage explained to Bodhan and Orana how Hawke was. He rubbed some more blood off his hands as he half listened, not sure he had anything to add.  

Anders finally finished his speech and declared he would visit again in the morning to check on Hawke. He headed down into the cellar, that was his quickest route home to the clinic.

Fenris straighten, about ready to take his leave when he met eyes with Orana. He absently bid goodnight to Bodhan as the manservant left for his room, and waited for Orana to speak.

“She did not mean to harm us?” Orana asks in a bare whisper, her eyes pleaded for reassurance.

Fenris shook his head slightly, "It was not you that she saw when she attacked.” The girl nodded in slow acceptance and he felt the urge to give her more comfort, or maybe a distraction. “She did cry, for Leandra and Bethany. Her brother and father too, I think. It may not count because she was asleep, but it is a start right?” She nodded, the fear morphing to concern on her face and he felt a small thrill that he had finally said something right.

“Th-that is good,” Her nodding grew faster with more confidence. “I will just be careful when I wake her. And I will keep caring for her as my Lady wished.” Orana breathed deeply then gave a weak smile. “She would be glad that you are caring for Mis- for Hawke too. Oh!” Her eyes brightened for a moment and then she hurried to one of the cupboards. “Let me put together some food for you to take home. I should have made some for the healer too, that is what my Lady would have done.”

Her exuberance caused Fenris to chuckle softly in spite of himself. He even gave her a smile in reward when she handed him a cloth tied around a small loaf of bread and cheese. “Thank you. I will drop by tomorrow.”

She nodded and watched as Fenris gathered his sword and headed out into the dark back alley. She locked the door behind him. Laughing quietly, she spoke into the empty room. “He still loves her, and she pines for him. What can I do to help these fools, my Lady?” Orana sighed, feeling tears welling in her eyes again. She pushed back the helpless feelings and turned out the lights. She would leave the cleaning for morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split this into two parts because not only was it getting long but I was struggling with the final scene with Orana. I like to think that she has some hero worship for Leandra. When she is alone in the kitchen she sometimes talks to Leandra and her father, because that is where she has the strongest memories of them both and it is like they never died.


End file.
